the space where my heart should be

The Space Where My Heart Should Be

You have made a mess of me.

Things don’t line up anymore -

Not the egg of my shoulder into its nest on my back

Nor the web of my fingers as they softly interlock

And the air outside freezes before it hits my lungs

Slamming my tongue into the back of my throat

Like the train screaming to a stop,

Grinding metal over the tracks as it tries and fails to alight,

Even though it knows it was never meant to.

Here, I sit, in my boxers and socks,

Letting the dew from outside make its way in

And I am a skeleton in a closet,

Hunched over the space where my heart should be,

Stilled to stop the rattling.

In silent verses, I recount my sins,

So that I may never release the pearl from the shell;

Keeping something special just for me.

Still, your name is the wave that crashes with fury into the shore

Before retreating to resharpen and strike again.

So when I hear it, I hold my breath and count to ten

Like I was taught to when I was young.

I crawl out of the front door with a resolution unimaginable

Shoving through the slush, cracking leaves,

And I drag that big ball of burning serenity out of its place in the sky

And I force it inside of me, making it stay put for once,

Like I could be that bright on the inside

Even though I know I was never meant to.

∾